


The Enemy of My Enemy

by Schm0use



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 13:03:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3979066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schm0use/pseuds/Schm0use
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say: the enemy of your enemy is your friend. But Lucian has been forced to choose between two great evils, and victory at the hands of either spells doom for the entire Runeterran continent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Enemy of My Enemy

The light of the relics shone steadfast and pure, and in that light, Lucian searched for solace. They had told him long ago that only the fearless, the untainted, could take up these weapons. Could fight the darkness. Falter in that cause, and the lights would dim as their souls did, for it was only from their hearts that their weapons could draw power. The relics were only as powerful as he and Senna were. Their light had never wavered – not while he had wielded one, by her side; not when her relic had been abandoned and she ripped from him to face eternal torment; not when darkness and fury consumed him as he cut a lonely, blood drenched swath through his foes; not even now, when all other reason and hope had left him. As he faced his most grim task yet.

Fighting for _them_. Or... fighting for her? He didn't know anymore.

All this time, he had clung to that last desperate shred of sanity. If her light was still glowing every time he took up her weapon, there must be a way, there _must_ be a means to save her. If his light was still glowing, then he must be on the right path. But maybe They had been wrong, or maybe They had lied to him; maybe the relics would shine on long after they were both broken shells of the people they had been at the start. Maybe they would be passed on to the next pair that would give their lives in service. He had no way of knowing – after today, his long fight would amount to nothing, for at the very end of it all, he had become nothing more than a pawn. He had exterminated these creatures by the thousands, but in the end, he was only one man, and they had come for him.

They had ensnared him, drug him down into filth, filled his eyes and lungs with it. He felt sure this darkness would stay with him always. He knew he could never truly be rid of it, not now that he stood amongst them, beside them, about to aid them in their fight.

“It is nearly time...” A skeletal voice whispered, the sound nearly gentle, like the embrace of night after a long, long day. The Deathsinger never need raise his voice to be heard – for death would come to all, one way or another. He stood absolutely still, robes fluttering in a breeze that no one else could feel. His sightless eyes surveyed the silent jungle – normally teeming with life, it had fallen silent for the upcoming battle, as if it, too, could sense the dire fate of the world approaching.

Delicate yet strong hands lighted on Lucian's shoulders, caressing his arms, brushing against his cheek. A silken voice, poisoned honey, spoke into his ear: “We owe you much, Purifier, for joining us. At day's end, we will emerge victorious, and you will know power beyond imagining.”

“I don't want any part of this fight.” Lucian snarled. “At day's end, you will pay me what you promised – or I'll send every one of you to a tomb even you can't crawl out of.”

The Spider Queen laughed. “What talk for a fly trapped in a web...” Her voice had turned sharp and savage, her peals of pleasing laughter to nightmarish giggles. The soft hands on his skin suddenly poked and pricked him with fine hairs covering eight giant pointed legs that skittered over his body, slid over his face – his skin crawled, not with fear, but with revulsion.

Heavy armor clanged loudly next to Lucian. They were attempting to startle him, he knew. He made no movement, not wanting to give them any further satisfaction.

“These creatures, I have heard, feel no pain.” The Master of Metal rumbled, “It is only fitting that I show them how exquisite agony can truly be.” Lucian was stunned (though he didn't show it) to hear a note of mirth in his deep voice. He had not imagined there was room amidst the evil for these creatures to feel anything besides.

“Fitting, indeed.” The Deathsinger placidly agreed. “After which the passage from this world to the next will seem all the sweeter.”

The hiss of chain links dragging over stone drove a spike of hatred through Lucian's mind. This one's name he knew – this name he would never forget, not if he lived until the sun set for good on Runeterra.

Thresh, the Chain Warden, stepped up beside him. “Their souls will make a fine addition to the ranks of the Shadow Isles.”

“You mean to your collection?” The spider asked pointedly.

“That remains to be seen.” The warden said. “I have yet to try my hand with creatures from beyond this world – humans, so far, have been my favorite... collaborators.” He angled his skull towards Lucian. “The righteous ones can withstand _so_ much pressure.”

In an instant, Lucian had both relics pointed right between the spot where Thresh's eyes would be, if he had any. All he had to stare into was the dead light that seeped from the skull before him – light the same color as spread from the lantern like a poison, light from which he could hear faint screaming, screaming and pleading for him to save them... a voice that was so familiar to him...

He snapped his head back, tearing his gaze from the lantern that Thresh had raised before him, enraged that he had allowed himself to fall for the same old tricks. It was a horrible feeling, knowing the only way to block out that sickly light was to close his eyes – leaving him unable to take aim, to shoot to kill.

“Are you both done?” A voice interrupted their standoff, floating down lazily from the trees. Lucian could just barely make out the pitch-black, many-legged form above their heads. The spider was ready to feast. 

No, they were not done. They would never be done until Lucian or Thresh lay obliterated, one erasing the good or the evil done by the other throughout their harsh lives. Unless...

He had been offered another option. Though they had captured him, they could not force him to fight. Unless they could promise him something more valuable than Thresh's head.

Lucian only fought for one purpose anymore; he only desired one thing. Those who dwelt in the shadows moved through the jungle and down the roughly cleared paths in front of them – his blood boiled as he recalled that he would now have to join Thresh in one of those overgrown lanes.

He gazed at the relics one more time. Still, they glowed. Would this be the day the lights dimmed once and for all? Or would it be the day they glowed brighter than ever before?

 


End file.
